


like a bird scared at an empty bush, trembling for nothing

by onibi



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, The Iliad - Homer, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drinking Games, First Kiss, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Misunderstandings, Never Have I Ever, sing goddess the rage of achilles destroyer of pot plants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 19:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7187450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onibi/pseuds/onibi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ah, what to ask,” he says, tapping his chin, looking thoughtful and downright mischievous. Theatrically, he holds up his finger as though he’s thought of something, even though Achilles can tell he knew exactly what he was going to ask before the bottle had even landed on him. “Never have I ever been in love.”<br/>Penelope drinks, adding to Achilles’ confusion, and then so does Patroclus.<br/><em> So does Patroclus.</em><br/>Achilles literally does a double take. His mouth falls open.</p><p>-</p><p>or: various characters from the iliad/greek myth playing "never have i ever"</p>
            </blockquote>





	like a bird scared at an empty bush, trembling for nothing

  
The bottle lands on Patroclus, and Achilles watches the way his face lights up. He’s glowing a little from the alcohol, and they don’t drink together often, not since that one time, where… well, they didn’t talk about it. The point was, he looked happy, and that made him feel warm all over. For whatever reason, that look was getting a little rare these days.  
  
“Never have I ever…” he strokes his chin, raising his eyebrows at Clytemnestra. “Never have I ever wanted to kill my boyfriend.”  
  
“You don’t have a boyfriend,” Achilles interjects, and Patroclus shrugs.  
  
“I’ve still never wanted to do it, then, have I?”  
  
Achilles narrows his eyes, but Patroclus ignores him. Clytemnestra skulls her entire drink. Helen looks around, as though someone is watching them, before sheepishly taking a sip, too.  
  
“Look, fair enough to both of you,” Achilles says. “If I had dated Agamemnon…” he trails off, shivering dramatically.  
  
“Well, I’m out,” Clytemnestra says, standing up stretching. “Whoever finishes their drink loses, right? Well, boo hoo, I lost. I’m going to bed.”  
  
There are a few protests, Odysseus in particular claiming that she cheated, but she just flips them off as she leaves the room.  
  
“Never have I ever cheated on anyone,” Achilles claims, puffing out his chest proudly. His smile falls from his face as everyone, _everyone_ in the room takes a drink, save for Patroclus. Which he expects because Patroclus had never had a girlfriend to cheat on. Not that he would if he did, Achilles thought, because he's the nicest guy in the room, and the state, and probably the country. Actually, he is definitely the nicest guy in the world, Achilles decides, even though he didn’t know everyone in the world and there were probably some really nice people out there, he just knew none of them could hold a candle to his best friend. “What is wrong with you people?” he asks, horrified.  
  
“I think I should ask, to clarify,” Cassandra says, “what exactly constitutes cheating?”  
  
Achilles frowns. “You know, like, kissing someone else. Sleeping with someone else.”  
  
“What about… longing glances?” she asks.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Holding hands? Talking with someone else like you’re together even though you’re not? Thinking about someone else while you’re together, like you’re there but you’re not really there, because in your head you’re with someone else?”  
  
Achilles’ frown deepens, and he can feel his face going red, for a reason he can’t quite understand. “I… I don’t know,” he says. “That can’t really count, not if you don’t do anything…”  
  
Cassandra leans in further, getting too close for Achilles’ comfort. “But you can get arrested for planning to murder someone. It’s still a crime. If you just don’t do the actions, does that really make you innocent?”  
  
“Cassandra, just drink your goddamn drink,” Patroclus grumbles. She does.  
  
“Oh, look at that. I’m finished too. Guess I’ll also be… off…” she trails off, looking around the room. Everyone’s looking at her in confusion. She bites her lip.  
  
“Is something wrong?” Helen asks, looking genuinely worried. Cassandra didn’t act this way, normally.  
  
“Good. Nothing. I’m…” she trails off, glancing at the door. “Bye!”  
  
When she’s out of the room, Odysseus starts laughing.  
  
“What’s so funny?” Achilles asks.  
  
“Nothing, nothing. Just. She doesn’t live here.” he responds, apparently unable to stop laughing at some inside joke that only he’s privy to.  
  
They spin again, and it lands on Odysseus, who looks all too delighted. Achilles’ sighs in preparation.  
  
“Ah, what to ask,” he says, tapping his chin, looking thoughtful and downright mischievous. Theatrically, he holds up his finger as though he’s thought of something, even though Achilles can tell he knew exactly what he was going to ask before the bottle had even landed on him. “Never have I ever been in love.”  
  
There’s a silence. Helen looks at him in horror, and then over at Penelope, then back at Odysseus. “Odysseus,” she gasps, “That can’t be true.”  
  
“Oh, no, it’s totally true,” he says, looking Penelope in the eye. “I’ve never, ever been in love. Not with anyone.”  
  
Penelope is smiling. Achilles is confused.  
  
Helen, who also looks very confused, looks back over at Penelope and cocks her head to the side. Then, after a moment, her face softens and she looks back at Odysseus. Then, she looks… angry?  
  
“Right,” she says. “Whatever you say.” She takes a drink.  
  
Achilles doesn’t know what’s going on, but he takes a drink, too. “Deidamia,” he says, shrugging. “My girlfriend. You know, the one who-“  
  
“Yeah, yeah, who got shipped off to boarding school because of you. We know,” Odysseus says. “You literally never shut up about it.”  
  
Penelope drinks, adding to Achilles’ confusion, and then so does Patroclus.  
  
_So does Patroclus._  
  
Achilles literally does a double take. His mouth falls open.  
  
Patroclus glances at Achilles quickly, and then looks away. Achilles, on the other hand, cannot look away. He feels like he’s been punched in the stomach.  
  
Patroclus doesn’t offer an explanation, and nobody asks him for one. They keep playing the game. Achilles is not paying attention. He can’t. He can’t focus on anything other than the fact that his best friend is in love with somebody, or, has been in love with somebody, and, and he didn’t even, he didn’t –  
  
“Achilles? Helen asks, her voice gentle. “It’s your turn.”  
  
“I,” he says, shaking his head. She’s looking at him with concern. Why is she concerned? He can’t think straight. He can’t think at all. “I need to,” he starts, and then finds he can’t finish. Instead, he just stands up and walks out of the room.  
  
It’s warm outside. Hot, even. As soon as he steps into the warm night he feels like he’s suffocating. He takes deep breaths that end up just making him feel dizzy, delirious, like he’s dreaming. He has to be dreaming.  
  
They shared everything with each other. _Everything_. Achilles had told him all about Deidamia, and had cried on his shoulder when she left, and he never cried in front of anyone, no one but his best friend, his best friend who he thought told him everything, who he’d do anything for, because they – they were inseparable. One unit.  
  
One unit who, apparently, kept secrets from each other. Big, life changing secrets. Being in love was _a big deal._  
  
He tries running it over in his head. Who could it be? It couldn’t be just anyone, not if he’s hiding it from Achilles. It has to be bad. But what if it wasn’t? What if Patroclus just didn’t trust Achilles the way Achilles trusts him? The thought makes him sick. Then, it makes him angry.  
  
He leans over and picks up one of the – god, at least thirty – potted plants on Clytemnestra’s enormous deck, lifts it up over his head, and then throws it back onto the tiles. It smashes into hundreds of pieces. His feet are covered in dirt and shards, and the plant, which had been a group of purple flowers, lies limp a few meters away on the deck. He’s panting, and shaking, and he whips around when he hears somebody behind him.  
  
“Dude,” Patroclus says, his eyes wide. “What the hell?”  
  
He frowns at Patroclus, and balls his hands into fists. “What the hell, indeed!” he yells, realising how ridiculous he sounds, and not caring.  
  
“You can’t just – this isn’t your house! She’s going to be so pissed, fuck. What the hell were you thinking?” Patroclus says, and he looks mad, too. Achilles didn’t see him mad often, or at least, not genuinely mad.  
  
“I was thinking,” Achilles says, taking a step toward him, “That I don’t even know you. Who are you? Are you my best friend?”  
  
Instantly, the anger slips away from Patroclus’ face. It’s replaced by the most overwhelming look of hurt that Achilles has ever seen on him. “Wow,” he says, and it comes out almost as a whisper. “Wow.”  
  
Achilles feels his shoulders fall, a little. Angry as he was, seeing Patroclus look so sad still made him feel sick. “You have nothing to say, really? I tell you everything. You know I do. I trust you with my life, and I thought, I thought you – felt the same way about me.” He swallows, and Patroclus turns away. “I didn’t know our friendship was a one way street. Do you just – do you just listen to all my secrets and then go off and laugh about it with your friends?”  
  
Patroclus turns back around, and he looks angry again. “What? What the fuck are you talking about?”  
  
“You’re in love,” Achilles says, and saying it makes him feel like he’s falling.  
  
“Yeah,” Patroclus responds.  
  
Achilles purses his lips. “Who is it,” he demands.  
  
Patroclus winces. “You know, I don’t really feel like sharing that with you right now.”  
  
Achilles huffs, and hates that he can feel tears stinging his eyes. They’re standing very close together now, and Patroclus is refusing to properly meet his eyes. “When were you going to tell me, then? Never?”  
  
“Why does it matter?”  
  
“Because,” Achilles responds, and before he even knows what he’s doing, he lifts his hand to his friends’ face. _Just to make him look at me,_ he tells himself, but as soon as his hand touches Patroclus’ face, slightly rough from not shaving this morning, Patroclus pushes into his hand. Achilles feels his breath hitch slightly. “Because,” he repeats, but it’s hardly a word, more of a breath.  
  
Patroclus looks at him. His eyes are deep and dark and so, so wide, and just the gentle softening of his brow, the way he lets his mouth fall open and, it just clicks. It’s barely a heartbeat, but Achilles let’s his gaze linger on his friend’s mouth and, without even really knowing why, he’s leaning in to close the distance between them.  
  
For a second, he thinks his heart stops beating. Patroclus’ lips are warm and dry and soft, _so soft_ , and he’s not moving and Achilles suddenly realises _god,_ what is he _doing_ , this is his best friend who is, or was, in love with someone else, and he can’t do this because what if he thinks he’s a creep, what if he decides this is it, Patroclus is never going to speak to him again –  
  
But then, Patroclus closes his eyes and _whines_ , reaching behind Achilles’ head to draw him closer and they’re kissing. They're actually honest to god kissing, and Achilles’ doesn’t know why they’ve never done this before because _holy shit,_ it's so good. He doesn’t know how he’s ever going to stop.  
  
It’s amazing. It’s a revelation. He’s kissed girls before and he loved it, he loved kissing his girlfriend in particular, but it wasn’t quite like this. Not the same. Not as urgent, or filled with so much longing and want and a desire so strong it's almost painful. He lets his hands crawl up into Patroclus’ hair and his breath hitches when Patroclus grunts and opens his mouth wider, sending all kinds of sparks through Achilles’ body as he lets his tongue enter his friends’ mouth.  
  
They could be doing it for hours, or days, or months, Achilles’ doesn’t know or care. His entire world is reduced down to just this – him and his best friend in the whole world, pushing into each other, joined together as, he realises, they should always be. Together, as one unit.  
  
They finally pull apart when breathing is getting too hard and god he’s never seen Patroclus so red, and his hair is a mess and he bites his lips that are so, so red and he just looks so incredibly handsome, so beautiful, and Achilles’ doesn’t know why he hasn’t seen it before. Or, he thinks, he has and he just didn’t recognise it properly.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Achilles says when he finally finds his voice, and saying it brings him back to reality, slightly. “I’m sorry.”  
  
Patroclus looks confused. “What for?”  
  
“Freaking out, and. You know.” He looks down at his feet. “You don’t have to tell me who you’re in love with.”  
  
He can’t look back up at him. He doesn’t want to see what’s written there, on his face. But then, he feels that Patroclus is shaking. He looks up.  
  
He's _laughing_.  
  
“What?” Achilles asks, his frown coming back. “What’s so funny?”  
  
This just makes him laugh harder, and Achilles steps back with a huff. He makes to move his arms away but then Patroclus is pulling him in again, still laughing.  
  
“You,” he says. “It’s you. You’re…”  
  
Achilles feels overcome with embarrassment. Was he bad at kissing? Did he misread this whole thing, and Patroclus just found them kissing funny? Not life-changingly wonderful like Achilles had? Suddenly, he feels the urge to run away and hide. Possibly he would, if Patroclus' hands on him weren't so distracting.  “I’m not sure this is as funny as you think it is."  
  
“It definitely is,” Patroclus says, and he stops laughing but he’s still smiling, big and wide and he looks so happy. Achilles doesn’t understand.  
  
“Well, I don’t think this is funny,” he says.  
  
Patroclus looks confused, then he reaches up and holds Achilles’ face in his hands. “Oh. Oh, no, not this,” he says, leaning in to gently, chastely put their lips together before pulling away. “That’s. That’s good. I mean…” he trails off. “You really don’t know why I didn’t tell you?”  
  
Achilles swallows the lump in his throat and shakes his head.  
  
“It’s you,” he says again, and now he’s not smiling. He’s just looking at Achilles. “It’s you.”  
  
It takes a moment. Achilles watches Patroclus’ face, waiting for him to explain, but then it clicks. “Oh,” he says, inelegantly.  
  
“Oh,” Patroclus responds, nodding slowly, a flush appearing on his cheeks.  
  
“Oh.” Achilles says again, and then he feels himself smiling. “You love me.”  
  
Patroclus starts smiling too, and it just makes him want to smile even more, even more than is possible. “Yeah. Idiot.”  
  
 “Oh,” he says again, just to make Patroclus roll his eyes, and then he leans in and kisses him again. After a few moments, he pulls away.  
  
“It’s me,” Achilles says. He feels giddy. “You love me!”  
  
“You’re such a fucking –“ Patroclus says, stopping in frustration and rolling his eyes again. He's blushing so hard.  
  
That's when Achilles realises he hasn't said it back. "Hey," He says, and makes his face as serious as he can, and waits for Patroclus to meet his eyes again. When he does, he smiles and smooths a finger over his rough cheek. “I love you too, you know.”  
  
Patroclus frowns. “Of course I don't know.”  
  
“Well, I do.”  
  
“Well, that’s great.”  
  
They look at each other for a few moments, then start laughing again, and then, Achilles doesn’t really know how it happens, but they’re kissing and it's even better than the first time, so wonderful and completely perfect. For once, everything is just perfect. He’s in love with his best friend. His best friend is in love with him. It’s such a good feeling it makes him feel like he’s flying.  
  
“What. The fuck.”  
  
They pull apart at the voice, springing apart like they’ve just been caught by their parents, except, Achilles realises, that this is much worse.  
  
“What the fuck did you do to my pot plant?!” Clytemnestra screams, looking at Achilles like she is definitely, one hundred percent about to kill him.  
  
Maybe not exactly perfect, then. But as he’s trying to explain himself, Patroclus reaches out and takes his hand, so it’s close enough.

**Author's Note:**

> the title is a quote from cassandra in aeschylus' 'Agamemnon' 
> 
> also i'm [on tumblr](http://canobic.tumblr.com/) please come say hi!!! xox


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